In the midst of the"American Dream"the weight of beautypulls youinto yourself;naked feet, vanishing underneathwhat’s lovelyand pure;a valley of white lilies,waiting,inside what is tired,And calloused,inside your sickly selfmoving.But then,you remind yourself to kneel before the flowersand thank themfor the journey, and the hands,and tearsthat tied it all together;and the miracle that not one was lost...